Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
Actions Have Consequences I
5th September 1993 (1 year, 323 days dilated) – Hogwarts
"You've thrown the Ministry into a bit of a tizzy," Filius said. He and Harry were sharing a Sunday evening tea, and the professor had spent the last hour regaling the Lord of Magic with stories of Lily.
"Oh?"
"The Minister was betting on the Dementors protecting Hogwarts and your little massacre of the horrid creatures has left him scrambling to come up with another way."
Harry grunted at the news before taking a sip of his steaming cup. "I thought I was successful in bullying him to increase the DMLE budget over the summer."
A bushy eyebrow raised at Harry's words, followed by the half-goblin smirking at the image. "You might have, but Dolores Umbridge has been trying to convince Fudge that you aren't worth the extra cost. If I had to guess, they will use your Patronus lesson to paint you as a dangerous individual. It would not surprise me to see Aurors used for the Hogsmeade trips, with Moody and Miss Tonks as the only in-Hogwarts protection."
"And if the followers of You-Know-Who kill someone who just happens to know a little too much information about sacrificial magic, all the better, hm?" Harry had known he would ruffle feathers and draw even more attention to himself with the lecture on how connected sacrifice was with magic, but saw it as an acceptable risk. "Are you familiar with training wheels?"
"The concept, yes. The child focuses on the mechanics of riding the bike without fear of falling off."
In an echo of days prior, Dobby popped into the room to hand Harry a folder that he then passed to the Charms Master. "The Founders looked into creating magical training wheels to aid students in learning spells. They succeeded, but it came with a lot of caveats and nuance. The ward covers all of Hogwarts but can't aid more than one spell at once, and you have to use a spell to prime the ward for whatever spell you wish to teach. It needs to be reset for each spell, works best for charms and magic with an emotional component, and refuses to work with any type of transfiguration. They didn't think it was a viable solution, but left it active. That's all their notes on the system."
Flitwick had been reading the notes in growing excitement and Harry was grinning when his chosen Head of House looked up. "You used this yesterday?"
"It was too important not to," he admitted with a shrug. "It doesn't give knowledge of how to cast the spell, but nudges the students in the right direction. Guiding them to correct small wrist movements, assisting them in forming a coherent and powerful image of what they want to achieve, that kind of thing. There's only one thing it doesn't teach, and I made sure not to mention it yesterday."
"Belief."
"Exactly. I'm not sure I like the idea of using it as a long-term teaching aid, but I admit it's perfect for students who struggle. I thought you or one of your NEWT students might be interested in improving it."
"Mister Potter... this, this is amazing. It would revolutionise private tutoring. Thank you."
"You took my mother under your wing, Sir, and you're giving me a way to learn more about her. Believe me, that's priceless compared to this."
Flitwick put the folder in one of his desk drawers and then gave Harry a look he was very familiar with. The younger mage sighed and waited for the other shoe to drop. The half-goblin linked his fingers together and leaned forward. "Have you considered what you'll be teaching in your next class?"
"Next class?" Harry blinked, putting his tea aside to give the man his full attention. "I was going to give it a week or two and then help whoever needed it with their class work. Grandfather should have me finished with the modern curriculum by Halloween."
Filius stared at Harry, the silence stretching until Harry sighed again. "You know the truth of my life. My mother gave up her future and life to make sure I would live. I started this path to honour that as much as get my revenge. It was never about bringing others along with me."
"And yet, Mister Potter," Flitwick replied. "My Lord... You are a Lord of Magic, learning magic long lost to time and are the future Lord of Hogwarts."
"Grandfather and I have decided I'll be in France for Yule," Harry said, changing the subject and making it Filius who was the one to sigh. "I'm going to sign up for the Duelling Convention. He would teach me duelling nearer the time, but we think it would be better for my education and watching eyes if you would consent to be my mentor. And of course, I'd love it if you could watch me compete."
While they both knew that they'd touch on the previous topic again, Filius couldn't hide his enthusiasm. "Wonderful, wonderful! It would be an honour.. What event are you looking to enter?"
"The Under-17s Championship, obviously."
"Obviously."
"And I'm thinking of doing some of the early Free-For-Alls and Round Robins to gain experience, too."
"It would be a delight for myself and my purse."
"Insider knowledge abuse from someone of goblin heritage. I'm shocked, sir, shocked, I tell you!"
They shared a chuckle. The appearance of a Hogwarts house-elf broke the mood carrying a polite summons from Dumbledore. The Head of Ravenclaw had no hesitation in accompanying Harry into the lion's den.
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OoOoO
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"Thank you for coming, Harry," Dumbledore said as the teen walked through the office door. The old man looked to say something to the following Flitwick and then appeared to change his mind. "And hello, Filius. I assume you will be Harry's advocate when he meets with me from now on?"
"For as long as Mister Potter wants me to, yes."
"No offence to Sprout, but I've never really connected to her," Harry explained. He held no issue with the Hufflepuff Head, but he also couldn't say he liked her, either.
"Professor Sprout, Harry, and that's fine. Please take a seat so we can begin."
Harry did so, sitting with his dominant leg crossed over the other and his back straight, and Flitwick conjured a chair that was easy for him to get into. The teen wasn't being obtuse with missing out the professors' titles, at least for those not named Dumbledore and McGonagall. He had taken on Salazar's opinion on what made a teacher, and none of the current Hogwarts staff had guided a student to be a Master in their craft and then declared the student such.
"I want to apologise," Dumbledore said, derailing Harry's thoughts. Were it not for his Occlumency, the Lord of Magic would have been gaping at the Headmaster. "You were right the last time we spoke. Not only about my attitude towards Slytherins and how my actions with you would have come across, but also in calling me out on my illegal attempt to remove your familiar."
Harry's mind had locked up. In all his many musings and planning around Dumbledore's actions, he had never considered the man who had destroyed his mother's life to apology for anything. It took Cadwaladr leaving Harry's magic to become physical and peek out from his robe for the teen's thoughts to reboot.
"You must know I am only worried about the safety of the students."
"I don't," Harry replied, his tone holding just a hint of coldness towards the powerful mage. "Rather than say that, you demanded my familiar and then tried insinuating that having him meant I was following in Voldemort's footsteps. That I was going to become like the man who killed my parents."
Dumbledore clasped his hands on the desk, echoing the very position Flitwick had taken a few minutes earlier. No twinkle lit up the Headmaster's bright blue eyes, and his shoulders sagged, although Harry doubted how real the emotions behind the act were.
"And I am sorry for that, my boy. I handled the situation entirely wrong. But I must protect the students, and Cadwaladr could hurt them. Allow me to negate your snake's venom. Filius could even be the one to cast the spell if you doubt my intentions."
"He doesn't have any," Harry simply said, a slight tilt of the shoulders being all the shrug he could do with the snake's head resting on it. "He's most likely to wrap himself around a human attacker. I'm more venomous than he is."
Dumbledore stared at Harry, who was doing his best not to grin at his familiar's snarky mental commentary over his last remark.
"I'm happy to hear it, my boy. You've put an old man's worries to bed."
"If that's all then, sir?"
"One more thing, Harry," Dumbledore's voice had taken on a sombre tone that had his instincts rising. The man took a deep breath and then visibly forced himself to continue. "I need to apologise for my part in your childhood."
"Headmaster..." Harry's voice had grown hard, taking on a tone no thirteen-year-old should ever use, and Cad hissed a warning. Flitwick had frozen in his chair, wide eyes bouncing between the pair.
"No, please, let me finish," a wrinkled hand raising to cut him off. "I knew you would suffer ten dark years at the Dursleys, but I saw them as a necessary evil to protect you from Voldemort's forces. Better you to go without a life of fame, love, and too much attention than be constantly at risk of attack. But I swear to you, my boy, I never expected that they would be this dark."
The hand gestured to highlight Harry's transformation, making it clear what Dumbledore was referring to. Silence stretched on. Harry's eyes had become emotionless emerald chips and his knuckles were bone white with how hard his fingers were gripping the arms of his chair. It took another hiss from Cad to break the scene.
"We're done here," the teen ground out with a clenched jaw.
Dumbledore didn't try stopping Harry from leaving. Flitwick took his time following the Lord of Magic, stopping at the door to give his boss an intense look. "Your intentions might be in the right place, Albus, but your actions leave a lot to be desired."
The Charms Master didn't wait for a reply, leaving Dumbledore to his own thoughts. Five minutes to the second later saw the door to his private rooms opened, and the battle scarred Moody stepped through. "That was a ballsy thing you did, Albus. The boy looked ready to curse you after that stunt."
"I needed to say it, Alastor."
The Auror grunted, leaning on his staff as he stared at his long-time friend. "And it was an olive branch to distract the boy from your attention."
"There is that, yes," Dumbledore admitted, dropping his glasses on the desk to allow him to rub his eyes. "What are you thinking, my friend?"
"The boy's powerful, no doubt about that. I wouldn't be surprised if Rakepick hadn't had him do a bunch of rituals either. She must have spent every day cramming knowledge into his head, not that that wouldn't be beyond her if she saw the need. And he's sneaky. I've caught him using secret passages all around the school, but where they come out, I couldn't tell you. My eye isn't penetrating many of Hogwarts' walls."
"Young Harry has spent many a-night exploring the school, and he is friends with the Weasley twins."
"Maybe so, but you need to tread carefully, Albus. Filius was ready to cut me down Thursday. That's some worrying loyalty. It's possible Rakepick hired him to teach Potter. The goblins have been in a tizzy all summer, too. Your professor could be neck deep in her plan and we wouldn't know until he turned on us."
"Thank you, my friend. I need you to monitor both of them from now on. We cannot afford Harry Potter to go Dark. Not with Voldemort ready to return."
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7th October 1993 (2 years, 221 days diluted) - Hogwarts
The following days were mixed for the young Lord of Magic. Monday saw a scathing article in the Daily Prophet that was a hair's breadth away from declaring Harry a Dark Lord from his use of an unknown variation of the Patronus spell that killed 'loyal Ministry allies,' along with his Saturday lesson. The article ended with the curious declaration that Dumbledore had aided Harry in avoiding Umbridge's attempt to arrest him for the destruction of the Dementors through a legal technicality.
While Lucius Malfoy couldn't be open with his support of Harry, Narcissa was under no such restrictions and had accompanied her sister and Law Wizard brother-in-law to visit the Prophet's offices. Although Fawley & Tonks Law didn't have the political power to go against the Ministry by itself, the paper's editor-in-chief Barnabas Cuffe had been wide-eyed and pale-faced when Ted had brought up the political legacy of House Potter. Especially when two of the infamous Black Sisters were making a statement by standing beside the solicitor.
The message was crystal clear. The country's saviour would have a long memory and a Black's attitude when dealing with their enemies.
Cuffe found himself caught between the current political power of the Ministry and the potential future power of a vengeful Harry Potter that was equal parts Black as he was Potter, and had promised to at least soften the articles the Ministry and Minister wanted printed about the Boy Who Lived. They all knew this was the best they could get until Harry entered politics.
Harry's sanity was thankful that only a few idiotic students jumped on the Prophet's bandwagon, with the rest keeping them in their place. Peer pressure was working for him this time, but he wouldn't take it for granted.
Classes had a new normal routine to them. All but the most elitist students were praising Lupin, and Harry only had to catch Draco's eye to cut off the boy's disparaging remarks over the DADA teacher's shabby appearance. Not that Harry was defending the Marauder. The Slytherin heir just found the blond's habit of mouthing off to go against everything Harry's ancestor had stood for. Snape's Potions class had evolved into a faux-strained neutrality as Harry's new skills shut up the routine nasty remarks that were now only for show. Conversely, Transfiguration had taken over as Harry's educational cold war. McGonagall had stopped ignoring him, only to attempt backhanded compliments and sharp remarks that had more than one Gryffindor wonder about a body swap between the woman and Snape. Harry met every remark with a bland smile and cold emerald eyes that had the woman's Animagus form's instincts forcing her to back down. Everyone could see the explosion building, and no one wanted to be in the way when it happened.
The twins were running a betting ring about when Harry would snap and how bad the fallout would be. Harry had found out from Dobby that they had convinced the school's house-elves to provide popcorn to any student 'lucky' enough to be there when the event happened.
And despite Harry's intervention that kept Malfoy from being injured by an angry Hippogriff, the incident had spooked Hagrid enough to change the third year lesson plan, leading them to learning about Flobberworms. As much as Harry liked the enormous man, he secretly agreed with Draco's remark that the teaching standards of Hogwarts had gone to the dogs.
Harry's group of allies and friends grew the week after his Patronus lesson. They were at the Slytherin table when Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil stood and made a nervous but determined walk in his direction. The Hall grew silent as the students realised the female Lions were heading towards the den of Snakes. The Indian Gryffindor's Ravenclaw twin Padma was quick to get to her feet and join the nervous girls.
"Ladies," Harry gave them a respectful nod. The Gryffindor pair deserved it for crossing the House divide, no matter the reason. "Take a seat and join us."
"They aren't welcome here, Potter," Lucian Bole snapped from his position near the top of the table. The rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team surrounded the sixth year and snickered as though he'd told a brilliant joke. The House didn't have an upper year hierarchy as the real alphas had either graduated or weren't ready to step into the position, and so the brutes got to pretend they were the leaders of the House. Until one of those future alphas spoke up.
"But they are, Bole," the fourth year Concepta Zabini purred, her shark-tooth smile promising trouble if the boys pushed. It was rumoured Blaise's half-sister was part Veela, but whether that was true or just from her bombshell looks, Harry couldn't tell. What he knew for certain was she was a wicked wand on the Italian duelling circuit, and it was only because of the country's unique duelling laws that would keep the girl from being involved in the Championship that Yule.
Lavender had sat when everyone watched Bole wilt under the girl's glare, but the twins had remained standing, the reason becoming obvious once Harry gave them his full attention. The girls put their palms together in front of their chests with their wrists bent, locking their arms at the three and nine positions, and then bowed.
"We are deeply sorry for our disrespect last year, Snake Speaker," Padma declared. Her voice breezed through the Hall, and the only sound that followed was the whispers of those who understood what was happening, explaining it to those who didn't.
Harry had no choice. He refused to shame the girls when the teachers could have stepped in and stopped how the students had treated him the year prior. Salazar had been teaching him of his father's culture, and Harry knew what he needed to do. He stood tall and commanding, with Cadwaladr having his head in an equally regal pose.
"You wash away your shame by apologising without request. Send a letter to your parents explaining what happened and that I allow them to judge your punishment. My price is a meeting with them, as I have recently found ties between my family and Asia, and a request to see any Parsel manuscripts your family are willing to share."
"Your benevolence honour us, Snake Speaker," Parvati finished.
Harry gave the pair a nod, dropped himself back in the chair, and waved a hand at the girls. "Sit down, you two. I appreciate it, but you could have done that in private."
Harry wouldn't realise until later that his words had proclaimed to the world that he was a Naga child. While the scowling Cho Chang hadn't realised it, her fellow Ravenclaw Su Li had. The Chinese girl would apologise in private and agree to the same 'punishment' as the Patils before revealing his slip.
It turned out all three wanted to pick his brain for magical knowledge, although Parvati and Lavender were obsessed with the art of divination, and it would become a common joke among the eclectic group over the many ways the pair tried to steer any conversation back to their new favourite subject.
By the time the first Thursday of October rolled around with Oli's first Quidditch training session, Harry was almost nostalgic for the game. He'd lived a full two and a half years more than his peers and the session felt more akin to reconnecting with the team than anything else. The seventh year captain was already in the air by the hoops, guiding Ron through what it took to be a Keeper in a game that mattered, while the twins and the gorgeous Chaser trio were working through drills. Harry and a nervous Ginny were standing on the pitch with his Nimbus floating off to the side. They were ignoring his friends in the stands and the two Aurors watching from the sidelines.
"I'm not going to teach you how to be a Seeker," he told the ginger. Her face fell, but Harry saw the telltale sign of anger beginning to push the disappointment away. "What I'm going to do is teach you how to fly."
Ginny scowled. She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot; the look reminding him of one that Mrs Weasley had given the twins. "Alright, Potter, you'd better explain yourself. I know how to fly."
"You know how to use a broom, Gin," Harry corrected. "I can give you tips on how to spot the Snitch, but I've caught every one because of how I flew. It's not just using the broom. It's making it so that you, the broom, and the air are working together."
He knew he'd lost her by the crease at the bridge of her nose. He chuckled, ignoring her scowl, and took out his wand to tap their lips and ears.
"That'll let us hear each other in the air," he told her, the words having a soft echo that proved his statement. "And this is a featherlight charm. Now get on behind me and you'll see what I mean."
Harry straddled the broom and waited for Ginny to climb on. Her blush exploded when he reached behind to pull her arms around his waist. His instinctive control of the broom had him up in the air and disrupting a play by the Chasers, causing both them and the twins to send playful shouts in his direction.
"Here's the thing, Gin: When most people get on a broom, they treat the broom like a trained dragon, but I fly by being the dragon and seeing the broom as my wings. Feel the wind and use its currents. Know exactly how close you can get to the ground before you have to pull up. Not the broom, but you."
"Can you show me?" She asked. He could hear how his passion had affected her, and smiled. He had a feeling he had found a willing student.
"That's why we're up here."
What followed was a masterclass of flight. Harry pushed the Nimbus to its limits, all the while keeping a calm commentary on everything he was thinking, feeling, and doing with the broom. After the second hair-whitening dive that had their shoes skimming the grass when he finally pulled up, Ginny had found the courage to ask questions, no matter what insane move he was performing. And by the time they were ready to switch off, she was pointing out shifts in the air and when he could make a move before he verbalised it. With the featherlight charm on himself, his arms wrapped around the young girl, and his Occlumency holding tight reins on his Thunderbird at its disgust at not being in control of the flight, Harry coached Ginny as she attempted to put his lesson into practice.
She wasn't near Harry's instinctive understanding of the air, but she'd taken on everything he had told her and proved herself better than any of the Seekers he had faced the previous two years. The pair were lost in their flight. They did Wronski Feints, spun around and through the goals not in use by the others, and even skimmed sideways along the bottom of the stadium's stands. Ginny was laughing by the time he had her land, her smile splitting her face in a way that he hadn't seen on the girl. He realised this was Ginny Weasley without the horror of Tom Riddle's touch, and he hoped the girl had more opportunities to express her.
"I want you to have the Nimbus," he told her after cancelling the magic they had been using. "I'll use it if I ever want to fly, and take it back when you're done with the team."
Ginny couldn't reply. The twins barrelled into their sister, reaching the fiery redhead a split second before the Chasers did. The team were shouting over themselves in their excitement to praise the girl's flying while Oliver and Ron came up behind.
"Merlin, Harry, I never knew she was that good." Ron stared wide-eyed at his sister, who was being hugged around by the Chasers. The trio appeared to have adopted Ginny into their ranks, something the twins would come to regret in short order.
"She's a Weasley, mate. You lot are born with a broom in your hand," he joked, getting a laugh from his friend and the rest of the team.. Harry turned his attention to the Captain. "Well, Oli? What's the verdict?"
"He's got promise and needs to work on the temper, but the skills are there. He might struggle next year, but you'll have a solid Keeper on your hands after that."
Congratulations." Harry grinned at the sheepish Ron. The temper criticism wasn't a surprise, the boy was equally likely to get frustrated with himself as anyone else, and Harry hope Oli's mentoring would help his friend with the emotional control. He waved at the other who were making their way to their own Common Rooms while the team headed to the Quidditch shower to clean off. "Would meditation help?"
"Meditation?"
It was Harry's turn not to reply when a weight crashed into him. His combat training with Sal kicked in, and he spun himself and the body around, only keeping himself from lashing out when he recognised Dora. The pair were matching heights, and Harry got a front-row seat at seeing her eyes cycle through colours in her excitement.
"Morgana! That was incredible. I knew you were a beast in the air, but that was something else. I swear it was almost like you were flying for her at the end."
The team's excitement vanished as though someone had doused them in cold water, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "Of course I wasn't. You think I'd screw everyone over with that trick?"
Harry heard far too many sighs of relief at his statement. The mischievous smirk tugging the corner of Dora's full lips told him she knew exactly what she'd said, and he tapped her nose to tell her he'd caught her prank. She maturely poked her tongue back at him.
"Are you sure about the broom?" Ginny asked as they were reaching the changing rooms.
"As long as you let Ron use it. I haven't let him borrow the thing often enough," he told her with a nod, turning back to the Metamorph. "You letting go or coming in with me?"
Dora blushed as the team whistled and pushed him away, making the teen laugh at catching her out. She waved goodbye and returned to the scowling Moody. Harry was tempted to flip the Auror the bird, but kept his middle finger under control. Instead, he sent the man a sloppy salute before entering the changing rooms.
The team didn't waste time in showering and getting changed, far too ready to get back into their Common Room to relax. Harry was setting up a chess game when Ron made a comment. "I'm not good at meditation."
Harry raised his head from the board, blinking while his mind connected the seemingly random statement to his question to Oliver. "You mean deep breaths and trying to clear your mind?"
"Yeah," Ron frowned, making the first move. The ginger focused on the game to avoid showing his embarrassment. "I know I've got a temper. Dad tried teaching me meditation when I was little, but I couldn't do it."
"There are different forms," Harry said, keeping his tone conversational to not set his friend off. "Some people do moving mediation."
"Huh?"
"Being active in a way that lets you relax. Some people might practise their wand movements, or dancing, or painting. For me, it's flying," Harry explained, already knowing that this wouldn't work for Ron. Especially not during a Quidditch match. "But I've heard some people also play games in their head."
"Games?" Ron looked up, blue eyes showing interest even with his frown.
"Card games, puzzle games, or, in your case, chess. Play a game of chess against yourself in your mind."
The technique was something Helga had come up. The misunderstood Founder had the biggest difficulty of the four with the protective side of the Mind Arts, and come up with a unique solution. She focused her thoughts on inconsequential things until they blocked out everything else. A mental intruder would have had to force themselves deep into the woman's mind to get to any key information, an act that would have alerted her to the intrusion. According the Salazar, Helga's Legilimency could destroy an intruder's mind should she desire to.
"Huh." Ron stared at Harry until his chess pieces demanded attention. "Thanks, Harry."
The pair were silent for a while, focusing on their game as the usual noise of the Common Room washed over them. Ginny's friends had congratulated her and they were now giggling away, as was their habit. The chess game was nearing another Ron victory when Fred and George dropped into nearby chairs.
"Alright, Harry, little brother, I think it's time we had a talk," George said, catching everyone's attention. Harry raised an eyebrow at the serious tone.
"It's great you're making friends, Harrikins," Fred continued. "But seriously-"
"Slytherins?!"
George had added his voice to his brother's, the twins leaning forward with stereo steely gazes. Harry mentally sighed. He'd known he'd end up in a convention like this at some point. A glance around the room showed a distinct lack of Hermione, and Harry's heart twinged at how distant they had grown in such a short amount of time.
"Did you know that almost every Black for the past three centuries has been a Slytherin?"
"No good wizard or witch has come out of Slytherin," Ron quietly declared.
"Dora's mum is Andromeda Black."
The Weasleys stared at Harry. He had found out she was friends with Charlie Weasley and had met the rest of the family outside of Hogwarts. The Gryffindors were now attempting to connect the bubbly trainee Auror and known Hufflepuff with their perception of Slytherins.
"Neville's gran married your dad's first cousin," Harry continued.
"The Weasleys aren't related to the Longbottoms," Fred said, frowning and glancing towards Neville.
"That's right," the boy confirmed. "But my great-grandfather Harfang Longbottom married Callidora Black. She was Cedrella Black's older sister."
"Grannie Ced was a Black?" Ginny gaped.
"And she was a first-cousin to Dorea Black, my grandmother," Harry added, looking between the shocked redheads. It surprised and disappointed him to see they didn't know their own family tree.
"Aside from proving everyone is far too related to everyone else," he snarked, getting some chuckles from those listening. "The point is, not everyone from Slytherin is a slimy piece of shit looking to curse us in the backs. Some of them end up being decent people."
Ron got them past the topic when he pulled a face. "But, mate, Malfoy?"
"Yeah, I know. Malfoy. But I can't treat you lot and Neville as my family without accepting him too. No matter how much I might want to."
The two friends started a new game of chess, effectively ending the topic. The Common Room began emptying from the late hour until only Harry and the Weasleys sans Percy remained, and the Lord of Magic didn't need to read their minds to know something else was bothering them. Apparently, it's the day for it, he thought. He leant back in the chair and waited for them to
"I really appreciate today," Ginny told him, and he could hear how genuine she was being. She had moved over to sit beside Ron, and the boy took her hand in his. "But there's something we need to know."
Harry could think of only one topic that the impromptu meeting would be about. "What happened between Trish and Bill?"
The family all gave some type of affirmative sign. Harry collected his thoughts, aware that it was a difficult topic for everyone. "I only know what I've been told. If I had to guess, I'd say the truth is somewhere between what Trish and Bill say it is. Trish had found a reliable source that talked about what was called Cursed Vaults somewhere in Hogwarts."
"Like the Chamber," Ginny whispered, shivering from her memories.
"Not quite. The source described how the Founder used the vaults to store powerful and dangerous objects. Stuff they didn't believe should be out in the world, but what they could use to protect Hogwarts if it was attacked. The school would drain the really terrible items to power the wards."
The twins whistled, while Harry realised the description sounded eerily like what Ollivander had shown him. It made him once again wonder about the history of his wand holsters.
"But Trish was worried. It wasn't like the Vaults were in some lost, forgotten tomb somewhere. There was no telling who might have found the Vaults, or if something had affected their protections. Turns out that someone had messed with them enough for them to mess with the students, and Dumbledore ended up asking her to investigate as a Curse Breaker."
"That was Charlie's second year," Fred filled in, getting a nod of agreement from his brother. "He told us about Rakepick that summer and it's what got Bill interested in Curse Breaking."
"She dispelled the magic but couldn't find its cause. She warned Dumbledore and the staff that she suspected the Vaults were active and they needed more investigation. What Trish didn't know was that the student who had been helping her with her search was the one who had activated the curse to begin with. The kid was expelled not long after. Dumbledore refused to bring in anyone else, and it was a few years later that he invited Trish back to take the DADA position when the Vaults' magic started acting up again."
"That was the year before we came," George said with a frown. "We heard so many rumours about what happened, we didn't know what to think."
"Trish took on the most promising students as apprentice Curse Breakers while she was looking for the Vaults. Only Dumbledore had asked some of them to keep him updated on everything."
"Bill was one of those, wasn't he?" Ron asked, getting a nod in return.
"Yeah. She wasn't too pleased when she found out. The whole thing was a mess. That kid who got expelled - Jacob something - had snuck back into Hogwarts to continue looking for the Vaults and got himself trapped in one. That had activated some pretty dangerous magic that was influencing people through the wards. It wasn't as bad as what happened to Ginny last year, but it screwed with a lot of people's thoughts. Dumbledore had called in Moody to watch Trish and things went insane. They found the Vaults, and she removed the curses, but the object that was affecting their minds wasn't happy when she freed the kid from the trap he'd been stuck in. It had been slowly trying to take over Trish's mind, but freeing the idiot caused it to attack her outright. She eventually fought it off, but not before a student died. Trish got herself to Gringotts before Moody or the Aurors could catch her, and the goblins put her through a major cleansing ritual. They gave the medical reports and memories of the treatment to the DMLE, but Dumbledore and Moody never believed it was as bad as she said."
The cursed object was a soul shard-infused Rowena's diadem. Sal had explained that Riddle had tied the diadem to a curse on the DADA position. When the kid had got himself trapped in the Vault's wards, his natural Legilimency had interacted with the diadem and the DADA curse, giving it a backdoor into Trish's mind. It could affect her amateur Curse Breakers because they were obeying her as their DADA Professor, making them DADA assistants. Rowena's headpiece wasn't one of the monster's true Horcruxes and the Founder had placed it under a copy of the Cursed Vault ward. The unwanted spiritual squatter was being eaten away by Hogwarts and both it and the DADA curse would fade within a couple of years.
Harry gave the Weasleys a helpless shrug and stood. "I'll let you guys think about everything."
"Thanks, mate," George said, the other boys nodding along while Ginny gave him a powerful hug. Harry returned it before leaving them to the Common Room.
He didn't know which way the siblings would go. Weasleys were steadfast in their loyalty to each other, something that he respected, and Harry refused to push their thinking either way. That was why he avoided going into the few specific details he knew. Harry nodded to his dorm mates and got ready for bed, throwing up a protection ward once his curtains were closed.
Harry had found he preferred shorts and a sleeveless top for his sleepwear, with both showing off his older physique. He held out his arm and felt the familiar tingle of Cadwaladr moving within his magic. The image representing his familiar had long since become just a mark rather than a physical tie to the snake, and it moved from his pectoral to slither down his arm to let the reptile grow out from Harry's wrist and take his usual spot on the bed. As easy as it was for Cadwalader to sleep inside of Harry, they both preferred his familiar to be physical when Harry was unconscious.
The reality of being a Lord of Magic was that the mage had an almost instinctual understandable of pure Magic than others, allowing them an insight and ability to do something most considered an impossibility. Salazar could have taught someone else all he had taught Harry, but during Harry's birthday ritual, they could not have taken that ultimate step to rip Riddle's knowledge from the soul shard without drowning in the monster's emotions or having the memories distort their sense of identity. Yet, the flip side of being a Lord of Magic meant that Harry could teach others what he did. In doing the seemingly impossible, he had become the bridge for others to follow in his footsteps. Should he ever teach them how he did it.
Harry was now attempting to become a Lord of Magic for both Arithmancy and Runes.
The magical world believed that a spell could not be both a charm and transfiguration. A mage might transfigure a boulder into a guardian, but they would need to charm/enchant the guardian before it would guard. Only Harry knew he could create a spell to do both and was striving to find the arithmetic formula that would allow him to do so. He had similar instinctive knowledge with his Rune attempt.
The blood ritual he had used to destroy the locket Horcrux had caught Harry's attention, but that type of Blood Magic could take too long to perform when in combat. And that was without the dangers of allowing a large amount of the Blood Mage's blood to be exposed to an enemy. But Harry's mind had connected the process with how Blood Mages revealed their blood runes, and he knew he could find a process to combine the two.
Harry brought his magic up and focused it on his palm, willing a familiar Sowilo mark to form on the unblemished skin. It had taken him weeks before he could create the magical representation of a blood rune where he didn't have one, and he was now attempting to have the rune move across his skin. He was using the sensation of Cad moving across his body, hence why the snake had taken the route that he had to become physical. So far, Harry could only shift the rune from his palm to his wrist before his hold on the magical construct broke, but he refused to give up.
He focused and drew the rune lower. The movement was slow enough to almost be his imagination were he not also feeling the shift in his magic. Minutes ticked by as the tip of the rune edged closer to his wrist and his arm was aching from staying in the same position. Harry's heart sped up as the rune approached his wrist crease, and he almost forgot to breathe when it slide lower. His focus finally broke when a third of the run had slid over the crease, and he grinned like a lunatic at his success. [1]
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15th October 1993 (2 years, 286 days diluted)
The Weasleys became a little distant the following week as they each worked through the discussion. Oliver had booked Quidditch training sessions every evening to get Ron and Ginny up to snuff, and while the Quidditch mad captain continued to focus on his future replacement, Harry had only needed a handful of sessions before he declared Ginny ready to practise without him. That left Harry spending some of his evenings working on his homework in the Gryffindor Common Room. He'd visited the others except the Slytherins', but was attempting to keep a connection with his fellow Lions. Until the other Houses grew used to his visits, anyway. It also meant he and Hermione had occasions to work together.
Working together was a misnomer. Hermione was notorious with their fellow third years in disliking anything that might lead to homework copying. Instead, he experienced a mix of strained silences and passive-aggressive conversations. Harry's accelerated training and mental maturity caused him to clash with the studious girl's far more than he had expected. Hermione spaced the questions out, and Harry assumed she analysed his every word.
"How did you get so good at Potions?"
"I had someone who didn't immediately hate me go through the basics. It got easy after I recaptured my interest. It reminds me of cooking."
"How are you so good at Charms and Transfiguration?"
"Visualisation and belief. It's what I told Ron. We're magical beings, and the spells we're taught are what everyone should be capable of. It's like learning the basics of an instrument. I didn't expect him to get the spell on his first attempt."
"Why are you doing Runes and Arithmancy without going to the class?"
On and on the questions went. They might have been innocent, but there he didn't miss her underlying tone and nor did his fellow Gryffindors. Two weeks into October and McGonagall had just put up the notification for the first Hogsmeade visit of the year when they had their next clash.
"Harry, why does your wand look like that?"
He knew it wasn't the question Hermione wanted to ask.
Harry had been working off Lily's book and moving some of her theories into his first grimoire. He had charmed both books to be unreadable by anyone trying to read them, and was writing his notes in a coded mix of Parsel script, various runic languages, and Latin. To outsiders, it looked like he was just copying a one notebook into another. He had been using his wand to draw out his designs in perfect scale. When rituals could come down to a matter of literal degrees separating success and failure, he refused to scribble his arrays and expect future Potters to understand what he meant. He'd seen the curiosity burning in his friend's brown eyes, but she had yet to ask the real question.
"Mr Ollivander told me 'the wand chooses the wizard,' and that each wand is situated for a person's personality and talent. But the general wand is much like how we're Sorted," he explained, putting his wand down to settle back in his chair. "But not every Ravenclaw or Gryffindor is the same. And a wand can work for two people who are almost nothing alike beyond what makes them compatible with the wand. When my holly wand stopped working, it was decided that I was better off having a better fitting wand."
Harry held up his main wand and began to twirl it between his fingers. The crowd watched, some only taking notice of its unique design for the first time. "Nine individual ingredients carefully chosen to match my deeper personality and my magic. At some point, one of my descendants may get a reaction from it, but it's almost impossible for someone to get this wand to work for them as it does for me."
One of the Pure-blood NEWT students whistled. "Damn, Potter. No one's openly had a wand like that in centuries."
"Why haven't I found anything about this?" Hermione demanded, and everyone heard the whine in her words. "How do you know all the things you do when I can't find anything?"
"It's all cultural knowledge," he shrugged, sliding his wand back into his holster. "Stuff you'd have to get told by someone, or know about before knowing you should look for it. Well, that, or learning it out of family grimoires."
"Grimoires? Like a Muggle Book of Shadows?"
"Yes and no," he answered with a wiggle of the head, ignoring Hermione's nose wrinkle at the term. Harry silently prayed that she wouldn't say something insulting. "The Vernaculi concept can mix spell books and grimoires together. All grimoires are spell books, but not all spell books are grimoires."
"Too right," another of the upper years called out, continuing to prove the school's lack of privacy.
"You might get a close enough to a family that they'll share their magical books with you, but they'll never share their grimoires."
"Why not?" Her face darkened from what she had heard, causing Harry to sigh.
"Because they're tied to a family's identity. They explain the truth of a family so that the bloodline never forgets. The Potter grimoire is how I'll be able to continue my family's traditions and learn its secrets despite being the only Potter left. Grimoires are made by a family for the family. A family's grimoire contains spells and history that are lost to time as far as the wider society is concerned. The only people who will ever know are those born into that family."
"Why are you allowed to know something I'm not?" Hermione decried. She was leaning across the table as though trying to get into Harry's face. "We're both Muggle-raised! Why can you learn important history and magic that I can't just because you were born into the right family?"
"Because..." Harry trailed off and settled back in his chair. Once again, he faced a student who was without the information he believed they should know. The more Harry had studied under Salazar, the more the Founder's heir became disturbed by how much was being kept hidden. "Let me ask you something, Hermione. Would you say it's okay for someone to walk into a Native American reservation and demand they give up what little of their beliefs and traditions they kept from being wiped out?"
"Of course not!" She snapped back in her chair with a horrified expression.
"I don't really blame you. It's a failing of whoever introduces first-generation mages to this world to not explain how they aren't simply getting invited into a private school to learn some new skills, but are walking into a brand new country that shares land with the one they're from. The magical world is a collection of enclaves more than just a hidden society."
"But what has this got to do with grimoires?" Hermione frowned, and he could understand why she hadn't connected the dots with her love of knowledge blinding her.
"You see them as keeping knowledge out of first-generation mages like you and my mother from some sense of superior bigotry. It's really not. It's to keep a family's identity safe so that they never forget who they are, where they came from, or what they stand for. Grimoires are a family's history, a recording of their core nature and magical DNA. To demand I teach you the knowledge of the Potter family is declaring that my family's personal history isn't important enough to honour. That you consider yourself better than everything my family has ever done, or that you're of the belief you'll be joining my family - and our society doesn't accept spouses learning everything contained within a grimoire anyway – or that you want to claim everything that makes me a Potter for yourself. And no one would consider marriage as the reason behind the demand."
"Sharing knowledge is important!"
"For society or sharing just because you want to know? When you leave Hogwarts, are you going to go to every magical society in the world and demand they tell you their secrets just to sate your hunger for knowledge? You already said it's not right to do it to Native Americans."
"But that's not the same," Hermione argued.
Like with his dressing down of Dumbledore, Harry had kept his voice level throughout the explanation. While he hoped he could get Hermione to understand, he was using the moment to teach the rest of the Gryffindors. The Lord of Magic could not understand why the school didn't teach the importance of grimoires to the Vernaculi-raised students.
"But it is," Neville corrected. Harry had noticed that his fellow third-year was involving himself more, and he hadn't missed Neville's new wand and rising quality in Charms and Transfiguration. "Harry told you why, Hermione. Our grimoires are tied to our families. They're our bloodline's foundations. Our history and our future. We could never share that with someone who wasn't family."
"And there's something you haven't considered," Harry pointed out when it looked like Hermione would continue objecting. "You, my mother, Colin over there, and every mage not born into a family that already has a grimoire can write your own and lay the first stone in building a new House."
"Really?" Second-year Colin squeaked in excitement, getting nods from those in the know.
"Absolutely," Harry promised, giving the camera-happy kid an encouraging smile. "And in three generations, there'll be a House Creevey who will use what you write as their guide to continuing your line. You might be a first-generation mage, but even the most bigoted of Pure-bloods have the social responsibility to honour your grimoire should you make one. Were it found that You-Know-Who or Merlin himself had written a family Grimoire, we, as a people, would be honour-bound never to read it unless we could prove to be of their blood. No matter what it was rumoured to contain. Would everyone honour that? Who knows, but those who didn't would lose respect should people find out. Personal Grimoires are the grey area."
"Harry," Lavender spoke up, drawing his attention over to what had become the 'divination table.' She and Parvati had claimed it to study their favourite subject, and Gryffindors of all years had sat with them to discuss the topic. "I noticed you say mage instead of witch and wizard. Why's that?"
"Mages, small m, are all of us and it's an easy catch-all term," he explained with a shrug. "Mages with a large m are titles given when someone specialises in an area while Masters are those with expertise on the subject. McGonagall and Flitwick might be considered Masters in their fields, but they would only be classed as Transfiguration or Charms Mages if they lived and breathed the topic. Coming up with new techniques or theories, or going on lecture tours. Stuff like that. It's a title that's fallen mostly out of favour nowadays except for specific areas of magic. The really sad thing is people don't question why the school is called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, instead of Magecraft."
"It's just names for boys 'n girls, ain't it?" Seamus shouted out in his thick Irish accent, only for Harry to shake his head before the boy finished.
"It's because witchcraft and wizardry used to be treated as two different branches of magic. Witchcraft was the subtle arts; Potions, Charms, hexes/curses, healing, Care, Arithmancy, Runes. Stuff like that. The 'precision magics,' as some might say. Wizardry was the flash and bang stuff. Transfiguration, Battle Magic, Divination. Things that represent 'go big or go home.' There was an overlap with rituals and other magics, but different parts were still split down the subtle/flashy division.
"Wait, divination is wizardry?" Parvati asked, as everyone else stared at the information.
"Of course!" Harry laughed, his lips pulled back into a huge grin that was just a little savage. "You're using your magic to pull knowledge from Time and Fate themselves. That's about as big a 'go big or go home' as I've ever heard."
The shift in topics made Hermione release a growing huff. She collected her books and stormed out of the Common Room while conversations rose around them. Harry watched the girl leave. And while he considered following her, Colin distracted him by moving into a nearby chair to learn how the boy could create a grimoire.
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31st October 1993 (3 years, 50 days diluted)
Halloween. Twelve calender years since the murder of the Potters. Thanks to the magic of Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement, Harry was over fifteen chronological years since that terrible date. Those extra three years had granted the Boy Who Lived a sense of distance from the terrible truth of his mother's life and allowed him to put aside any negative feelings he had towards James Potter. Salazar had stepped the young Lord of Magic through a Samhain rite and how Harry was to worship his family and ancestors. The Snake Lord promising that he didn't need an offering.
A Samhain rite had two ways of offering to the departed. The first had the living put aside pieces of the meal and drop them into a prepared brazier, and the combined magic of the participants, ancestors, and the day itself granted those gone a chance to appear and show their gratitude. The second saw the living mage offer a sacrifice to Death, any deities they might worship, and those who had passed.
As the first was almost universally done when in a group, Harry chose the second for his first proper Samhain and took his time considering the offerings. His offering to Death saw him visit a dilapidated cottage in Little Hangleton and using Riddle's memories to claim the Resurrection Stone and cleanse its band of a Horcrux. No one sitting down for the Sunday's breakfast would ever know that the Dark Lord, whose made-up name they all feared to say, had grown one step closer to being destroyed.
The offering to his Peverell ancestors was equally easy, if somewhat impersonal. The day prior had seen Harry visit the school's Thestral herd to gain one of their hairs, and he soaked it in his blood. It represented Harry's dedication to carry out the House's responsibility rather than honouring past members, yet the dark purple flame that had engulfed the hair showed the House's ancestors' acceptance.
House Potter saw him burning a collection of expensive potion ingredients to represent the family's deep history in the subject, and Dobby had found him a stag Royal antler rack of 18 points. Harry's prayer had been short but heartfelt.
"You were not the man who was supposed to be my father, but you loved mum and I enough that you died to protect us. You were a tool moulded by a manipulator who died like a true Potter and Peverell. I am honoured to be related to you."
House Black saw Harry conjure a dagger that he enhanced to be ever-lasting and wrap its hilt with raven feathers his loyal house-elf had provided. Salazar had pushed Harry into making a fourth offering. The Founder refused to name the family Harry was offering to, only telling the teen that they would know if the spirits accepted the offer. He didn't need Sal's confirmation when Cad's scale turned to a golden colour, and the sunflower and moonflower crystallised with an inner yellow and white glow, respectively.
With the other offerings vanishing into the fire, Harry would put the changed items of the mysterious House in his Room's bedroom. The teen was well past the point of being able to read his master's expressions and knew the result had both delighted and worried the Founder, as though finally proving something the man had long suspected. The elder Lord of Magic had promised all would be revealed eventually, and the younger Lord unhappily put it out of his mind.
His rewound day saw McGonagall attempt to convince Harry to stay in the castle. The disapproving thinning of her lips when he asked if the staff were requesting the rest of the students to do the same put a pep in his step as he made his way to Hogsmeade. Despite this freedom, Remus Lupin found Harry wandering Hogwarts' corridors long before the students were due back.
"Harry?" Said teen turned from his wanderings to see his father's close friend peaking outside the DADA classroom. "Where are your friends?"
"Hogsmeade."
"Ah," the scruffy man sighed, giving a nod as though it answered everything. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for your next lesson."
"Water demons, said to have originally spawned by the Grendel monster," Harry automatically recited. Salazar's very different version of DADA and COMC were his latest subjects under the Founder's tutelage, and it seemed he was at one of the rare moments when his two educations lined up.
"Yes, well done," Lupin said, turning to gaze at Harry with a bemused expression. The teen gave a blank look in return and the werewolf blinked first. "Cup of tea?"
"Sure," Harry accepted, taking a seat to watch the man use his wand to activate the kettle, causing it to whistle out a full blast of steam.
"I must say, I wasn't expecting Minerva to be successful in convincing you to stay in the castle."
"She didn't," he corrected the man, getting another side look of confusion even as Remus added tea bags to their cups. "I met Cassie and Patricia at the Three Broomsticks, but we had to cut it off early. Moody got a bunch of the Aurors to take the tables around us as he worked on breaking down Trish's privacy spells. We got fed up with the whole thing and called it quits. Cassie said she'd be writing to Madame Bones, and I left Dora trying to round up the group after Trish cursed them into ducks following Moody's feathered arse. I'm not sure what impressed me more; that she changed his gender with the curse, or that the curse turned him into a peglegged duck."
Despite the annoyance, Harry was able to tell the sisters of the mysterious House Salazar had him give an offering to, and they both promised to look into what family it might be.
Only Remus' long history of being a Marauder allowed him to calmly hand Harry the piping hot cup of tea while his mind struggled with the information. Ultimately, he had only one thing to say. "That sounds like the Patricia Rakepick I knew."
"Yes, she's told me she knew you."
The silence was heavy as the deeper meaning of Harry's words hung between them. "You know I knew your parents."
"Yes, and I'm curious what your reasons are for ignoring your best friend's son."
Remus winced at the cold delivery. The man took a fortifying sip of his tea and found its help lacking. "I... I have an illness. I was not capable of looking after you after it happened."
"I assume that as you're a teacher now, whatever it is, isn't infection through the air?"
"No."
"And the lack of visits or letters? Or even a letter since I re-entered the Magical World?"
"Dumbledore said you needed to be away from this world when you were growing up. And then you needed time to settle in it."
"Which is it?" Harry pushed, putting his untouched tea on the desk between them. Remus had turned away from his intense green gaze as the Basilisk Animagus struck hard and fast. "Did you stay away because of your illness, or because Dumbledore told you to stay away?"
"Both," Remus admitted, wincing when Harry gave a knowing nod and stood.
"See you in class, sir," Harry said to the silent man. He opened the door to find Snape standing outside it. The Potions Master had one hand raised to knock while the other held a smoking goblet. The two blinked at each other with Harry's gaze dropping to the potion before turning back to the ashamed Marauder. "Don't forget to take your Wolfsbane, Moony."
The Boy Who Lived vanished into the corridors to find an empty room to work on his personal projects.
The Halloween feast was pleasant, despite what the day personally meant to Harry and through his connection to Death, and he was only half paying attention as the Gryffindors made their way back to their Common Room. A heavy crush of bodies brought him to the moment and his instincts woke to prepare for a threat.
It took the arrival of Dumbledore and the other teachers for any sense to be made of the slashed Fat Lady portrait. And then only because of Peeves the Poltergeist sharing the details. The woman in question had refused Sirius Black entry to the Gryffindor rooms, and he attacked her for the denial. The woman had escaped her frame before the crazed escapee damaged her, but she was too scared to return.
Dumbledore and McGonagall sent Harry 'I told you so' glances at the revelation. Although what they were being smug about, the teen didn't know as Sirius Black had gotten into Hogwarts rather than the attack being in the nearby village. Not that he would expect either to accept the point. The teachers led the Lions back to the Great Hall, and Harry cast an overpowered notice-me-not charm on himself to slip unnoticed into a classroom. Dobby promptly arrived for his orders.
"Find his mangy arse and get him to the Tonkses," the Lord of Magic commanded, bringing his familiar Patronus to life. "And Bellatrix if she's with the mutt."
The elf nodded as the Patronus sped off to find its target. Harry was back in the crush of Gryffindors before anyone noticed they couldn't notice him. The other Houses arrived confused and cranky, and it needed Dumbledore created sleeping bags and an overly authoritarian Percy Weasley to get everyone settled.
It would be late into the night when an invisible Dobby arrived to slip a letter into his master's hand. The elf's silent click allowed Harry to read the note in the dark Hall, and he could only stare at the message.
Peter Pettigrew is Ron Weasley's pet rat.
A rat that vanished when Hermione had picked up her baby tiger of a pet before they even got to Hogwarts. Harry only had one thought. Bugger.
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OoOoO
AN:
1 – This ability and the final result is inspired by Souen11's "Hadrian Black: The Other Twin."
SN:
Last Edited – 18th July 2023
Word Count – 10,691
Previous Word Count - 10,606
